


Balancing Act

by dropdeaddeadass



Series: kinktober 2020 [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftercare, BAMF Reader, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Cum Swallowing, Deepthroating, Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism, F/M, Hate Sex, Oral Sex Male Receiving, Porn With Plot, Public Sex, Quidditch, Ron isn't with Lavender Brown in this, Rough Sex, Semi-Dangerous Sex, Shower Sex, Slytherin Reader, Smut, Teasing, Vaginal Fingering, beater!reader, getting caught, heights, ron weasley - Freeform, sex on a broom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:21:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26871307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dropdeaddeadass/pseuds/dropdeaddeadass
Summary: Slytherin win against Gryffindor for the first game of the school year, and Ron Weasley has trouble balancing whenever you fly by. Out of the kindness of your heart you offer him some help, for a price of course.
Relationships: Ron Weasley/Original Female Character, Ron Weasley/Reader, Ron Weasley/You
Series: kinktober 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1955581
Comments: 5
Kudos: 193





	Balancing Act

The sky was grim, barely any yellow light filtered through the clouds and a drizzle came over the school that morning. The wind wasn't yet a gale, but it held a chill to it, one you could feel even though you were in the Great Hall. Both Slytherin and Gryffindor tables were buzzing, anticipation building as the hours turned into minutes before the two houses were due to make their way out to the Quidditch pitch. 

You sat at the table, already geared up and ready to go, somehow still slamming down glasses of orange juice and slices of semi-cold buttered toast. Being a beater meant you were going to need all the energy you could get in order to smash a few Gryffindors off their brooms. Your team made idle jests and conversation as you ate, you sat with your back facing the gryffindor table, growing agitated as Ron Weasley rambled about Gryffindor beating Slytherin. _Does he ever shut up?_ you thought, swallowing a glass of water. 

"If they pull the lion chant again we've gotta hit them with _Weasley is Our King_. I don't think I can stand listening to that damn chant again." You muttered angrily, numerous team members agreed and laughed. You'd spun around in your seat now, watching the bubble around Weasley and Potter grow, you leant back, your elbows behind you and your back barely touching the grainy wood of the table. 

"Hear that, Weasley? You and Potter start that stupid chant and we'll sing Weasley is Our King the whole game." Your jaw clenched, as a member of your team barked out the plan. You chuckled along with them, smirking in the process. 

Your eyes rolled when Granger and Potter motioned for Weasley to turn back around, away from the taunting Slytherin table. "Typical, retreating behind Potter." You laughed loudly. "Let's hope for Gryffindor's sake you don't do that during the game." 

What you didn't expect next was Weasleys face turning around, cheeks as red as his hair. " _Will you shut up?!_ "

You fake pouted at him. "I could say the same for you Weasley, all I've heard come from your mouth is 'Ooh! I'm so excited to be keeper!' and 'I hope we win' and you can't forget the 'thank you Harry'" You mimicked his voice, increasing your pitch slightly. "Take your own advice mate."

"Don't call me mate." He huffed, standing up with Harry as he tried to usher the red head away from the Slytherin table. 

"What do you prefer then Weasley? Ginger? Oh, who am I kidding, you love being called King Weasley," You felt as tap on your shoulder, looking over your captain was scowling, you sighed and turned back to Ron, shouting one final remark as he was led away. "See you out there King Weasley!"

Skulling back one more small glass of water you stood up, laughing at one of your teammates jokes. 

The walk out to the pitch was met with complaints and whines from almost everybody as the freezing wind ruffled their robes. You clutched yours around your chest and held it with your hands. "Why can't we play in spring or something?" You whined, gaining approval in the form of head nods from your teammates. 

From beside you a voice all too familiar made you cringe. "I'll warm you up Y/L/N." 

"I think I'd rather die Weasley." You spat back. 

"Your call." He shrugged, slowing his pace so that he was back in the Gryffindor group of players. 

You rolled your eyes, "It's like he's obsessed with me or something." Chuckling as you were granted a small warmth from the changing room tent. You flattened out your hair and puffed, cheeks red from both the cold and the brisk walk from the castle. Inside the tent were two rows of low benches and floor to celieng lockers. You never spent enough time in the tent to really take in it's appearance. Behind a flap in the tent was the bathroom, how on Earth the Hogwarts founders were able to charm a fully functioning bathroom with actually hot water, you may never know. 

"Y/N? Y/N??" Your teammate bumped your shoulder when it was time to assemble for the match. You apologized quickly, picked up your broom and made your way to the small covered platform teams would stand on before the match properly began. Upon seeing your captain and keeper mount their brooms zooming off into the stadium, you and the other beater followed suit. 

The drizzle that had stuck around that morning was replaced with harsh pelts of rain. Though they were not harsh enough to give you bruises, you knew you'd have a sore face by the end of the day. Hovering above the ground and Madame Hooch, you waited for the opposing team to arrive. Gryffindor were the match favorites and it irked you, edging you on to train harder. Slytherin needed a win first up in order to secure an easy spot at the top of the ladder, and partially for bragging rights. 

You sat settled with the broom between your legs, one hand gripping the broom taught as you readied your other one with the bat. You made brief eye contact with Weasley, eyeing him up and playing with the bat in your hands. You raised your eyebrows. It'd be a more equal fight between the two of you if you were both beaters, but alas, you could just make his life a living hell if you felt like it. Slytherin were never above playing dirty. 

"I want a clean match between you all, no foul play, alright?" From bellow, Hooch bellowed against the noise of the crowd, the wind and the rain. When the first siren rang and the balls released you swerved into position, diving up to thwart the bludger in the direction of the Gryffindor seeker. You turned your head to see a chaser on their own, so you dived back down and stuck to their side, only noticing they had the quaffle momentarily. You swung your bat hard when you saw the bludger coming toward you, sending it flying into a Gryffindors broom. Your balance had improved in recent weeks, and also your ability to make sharper, quicker judgements. 

The chaser beside you flung the quaffle into the highest ring when Weasley wasn't looking, scoring and earning a cheer from the stands. Though you were sure Weasley couldn't see your face properly in the rain, you gave him a pointed look and a smirk before following two chasers again. The wind on your face was harsh and cold but the thrill kept you going. Potter had practically glued himself to the side of one of your chasers again, and you hovered above the pair for a time, looking out for the bludger and where it would fly next. Shouting loudly you called for the chaser flying below you to aim their broom up as Potter was hit in the leg by the bludger. 

Before you could even react to getting the bludger again, the cheer of Gryffindor rung out. You scowled, but moved on. Slytherin's seeker had better find the damn snitch, you thought before the match continued. 

As the game progressed, Slytherin had been able to score fifty points to Gryffindors meek forty. As you circled the stadium again you watched the pattern of the bludger. You hovered mostly in front of the Gryffindor scoring end, right in the way of Weasley and escorted either the chaser or seeker as they passed by. When the bludger came barreling towards you, you were shielded by the chaser, so you stopped abruptly and turned your broom ninety degrees so you could protect the chaser, and thwart the bludger elsewhere. Without thinking you swung your bat, and the loud ringing sound that resulted made you actually turn your head to look. The bludger had been thrown at the second highest ring of Gryffindors scoring end and had barely missed Weasley, pinging off in a different direction. 

_"What the fuck, Y/L/N?"_ He hollered, you shrugged your shoulders and continued the match. Slytherin had been even with Gryffindor for what felt like forever and you began to feel the regular drain of the match wearing you down. A glance over to Weasley and you saw him nearly fall off his broom, when there was barely any activity at either of the ends of the pitch, with most of the action taking place in the middle of the ground. 

You panted as you caught up with another chaser, turning corners when you needed to. The voice of Lee Jordan egged you on, and the rain fell harder, getting more in your hair and eyes. "Slytherin's Seeker has caught the snitch!" The words rang out clear, a rise in cheers happening immediately. You slouched in happiness, slowing down as the game ended. "Slytherin has won the match!" 

You breathed gleefully, cupping your hand with your teammates as the seeker returned to the center of the field. "Guess we might have to sing Weasley is our King after all, he didn't look very balanced." You chuckled, rejoining your team on the covered platform. Finally, you thought, entering the tent and collapsing onto one of the benches. You shrugged the worn and wet quidditch robe from your body and began to take the protective layer off of you. You replaced the wet robe with a spare one. Some students began to saunter off to the adjoined shower tent, whilst you stayed put, trying to catch your breath. The surrounding noise began to die down as spectators and players alike left the area. You were the last one left, and you had opted out of a shower, knowing that showering in the castle was going to be a better option, enclosed within _real_ walls. 

"You sure, Y/N?" Your teammate asked. 

"Yeah I think I left my bat out on the pitch, don't wait up though. I'll see you later?" Truly you just liked to take your time when winding down. Your friend and teammate simply smiled, grabbed their things and dipped out of the tent. With stiff legs you moved up the stairs to the wooden platform again, looking out to the pitch to indeed find your bat sitting in the middle of the ground, and a familiar head of red hair fumbling around on his broom at the goal posts. You sighed, grabbing your broom from its stand on the wooden platform and jumping easily onto it. 

You ignored the bat lying in the muddy grass in order to see what Weasley was doing all by himself up at the posts. You called out to him. teasing, "I thought you'd be the first to leave Weasley, considering you lost and all." 

He whipped around, fire in his eyes. "Bloody hell, you really don't know when to shut it do you Y/L/N?"

You chuckled. "I know when to shut up, I just choose not to. What are you doing out here?" You questioned, hovering your broom in front of his. 

"I could ask you the same question." He sneered. 

"Dropped my bat. But I got interested to see what you were doing up here, all by your lonesome." You smirked. Looking at him, now that the rain had slowed and returned to a quiet drizzle, you noticed he held his broom firmly with two hands, his knuckles turning white by how hard he was gripping it. You relaxed on your broom, releasing both hands to cross them over your chest. 

"How do you do that?" Ron blurted out, noticing your movements. 

"Balance? You need help balancing?" You scoffed. 

"I know you saw me nearly fall during the match." 

"At what point?" You cocked your head, giggling. 

"Shove off. When you swung that bludger and it hit the post. Every time you'd fly 'round after that I kept thinking you were gonna fling another at me." He admitted.

"I made you nervous?" You were shocked. "Well, guess that's what you get for blabbing all week. It was proper annoying." 

"This again? Merlin you're a pain." Weasley spoke nervously as a gust of wind rippled through the stadium, almost knocking him off. 

"Well gripping your broom that hard isn't going to make things easier, y'know." 

"Teach me then, if you think you're so good." 

"Weasley I am literally not touching my broom with my hands at all. Of course I'm good." You pointed out, sighing. "But i'll take you up on your offer, only if you put in a good word with your brother for me." 

He rolled his eyes. "Which one?"

"Both preferably!" You gave a toothy smile. 

"Bloody hell." He moaned. 

* * *

Though there was a simpler understanding between the both of you that you would refrain from teasing the living daylights out of Weasley during your little teaching sessions, it didn't exclude purposefully bumping into him in the hallway, or him calling out to you in the courtyard and teasing you. It was a comfortable feeling, now understanding why Malfoy insisted on pestering Potter. 

You'd met with Weasley every Friday night for the past month and you were oh so close to stopping. He just hadn't been able to grasp the basic concept of balance in over a month and you were frustrated. When you saw him in the halls you taunted him, calling out "Oh look, it's King Weasley, the boy who can't balance," much to the amusement of your friends and classmates. 

That weekend the game involved Gryffindor and Ravenclaw and Ron had seemed to be getting antsy. You decided to meet up with him more during the week and his issue seemed to get worse, much to your dismay. Once your last class ended you dashed to the Slytherin common room, quickly switching out your school satchel for one stuffed with your quidditch gear, before you took off to the pitch. 

When you reached the tent you stripped your school uniform off and replaced it with a green long sleeve shirt and plain pants. Hooch required all brooms to be held down at the stadium, so you searched around until you found yours, the initials of your name etched into the underside of the broom head. You stood on the edge of the wooden platform, occasionally looking out to see if Weasley had entered the sky before you. 

You leaned against the wall of the platform, sighing and closing your eyes. Your short lived bliss ended when a sweaty Ron Weasley had yelled out to you. "I'm here! I'm here, Y/L/N!"

"I know, I can hear you mate." You sighed, hooking one leg over your broom. "You ready? It's game day tomorrow."

Weasley hastily followed you out, stepping on his own robe in an attempt to get off the platform faster. He didn't answer your question. 

"Can I ask you why balancing doesn't stick? Everything else you seem to do fine at, why is it balancing that ruins it?" You questioned as the two of you flew to the closest set of hoops. "I've been teaching you for a month, Weasley. It's barely improved."

He took literal offence to your statement. "I have improved! You just aren't looking hard enough." 

"If I'm looking at your hands, I'd say you've gotten worse, Weasley." You tried to keep your voice even, but you knew Weasley would end up raising his own first. 

"What do you mean? I have gotten better, I'll prove it."

"You better, I'm so fucking tired of teaching you the same thing, and every time we do this you still have the whitest knuckles. You don't know how to use a soft grip." You chastised him as the pair of you stopped by the posts. 

"Oh, if we're talking _soft_ grips, I'll show you soft grips." He mumbled, not taking his hands off the broom as you maneuvered your own with just your lower body. 

"Yeah I'm sure you will Weasley. You ever show it to Granger?" You teased. 

"Did you just come up here to tease me again?" 

"No. I've come up here to teach you. But tell me, why can't you balance? You're always off in the distance, looking out over fucking yonder. I'm surprised Potter hasn't dumped you from the team yet. You've got horrible form." Now you were just trying to test his buttons, see what would make him break.

"Fuck off, Y/L/N. Harry's my friend, he wouldn't let me go after one game." 

"But tomorrow is game two, and I'd bet 100 galleons he drops you tomorrow night." 

"Fuck you." His tone changed. "You're always so high and mighty, Y/L/N, thinkin' you know better than everyone else, you don't!"

 _There we go_ , you thought, as you finally coaxed something out of him. "What don't I know then, King Weasley?"

He groaned when you used the nickname. "Kept fucking staring!" He yelled. 

You pressed further. "Staring at Granger? Now I know she's a looker but I didn't think you were actually throwing the game." You burst out laughing. Weasley's face turned bright red. 

"Not Hermione! Fuck's sake." One look down and you saw his grip loosening, so you kept prodding. Out of all strategies you'd tried with him, getting him angry and upset was the one with the most success currently. 

"Who then? Come on, give us the details, Weasley." 

His jaw clenched. "You! You, alright? Can you get off my fucking case now? Bloody hell." He motioned with one of his hands, and without realizing it himself he had only one hand on his broom. You didn't even take into account the words he was saying. 

"Good, good, seems I just had to get you angry to get you to stop touching your broom." His eyes widened and he looked down, and then back up at you. _Did you not hear him basically confess an attraction to you?_ "Who did you say it was, I was too busy looking at your hands." 

He blinked. "Uh, I said you, I kept staring at you." 

For the first time you were silent. "Oh."

"Yeah."

"Right."

"Yeah."

Awkwardness spread between you two, a couple hundred feet in the air. "So it took me getting you angry about staring at me during the game to get you to finally balance again? I'd hope you were staring at my good side." You chuckled, breaking the silence. 

"Yeah, I guess. Thanks?"

"Any time King Weasley." 

He groaned, "Back with the King Weasley shit again?" 

"Would you prefer I call you Ronnikins?"

"That is _so_ much worse. Can't we be on a first name basis? At least out here?"

"Well tonight might be our last meeting, since you've actually shown progress thanks to me!"

"I take that as a yes, Y/N?"

"Feels weird to have you say my actual name Ron." 

"Same here."

You maneuver your broom so that Ron was the one closest to the hoops. "Alright, now that you've shown me you've got a decent understanding of balance, I want to see how you go when a quaffle is about to score, and how fast you get keep one out of each of the hoops. Use that soft grip you were telling me about, I'd like to see it in action." You winked, flying down to the platform for a moment to receive a quaffle. When you returned you saw Ron, pink in the face, but still managing to hover. You cocked your head and smiled, hooking your arm to throw the quaffle through the bottom hoop. 

"That's not fair! You didn't tell me which hoop you were throwing to!" He whined, voice breaking. 

"Now where's the fun in that?" You smirked, the quaffle finding it's way back to you so you could throw it again. "Ready?" Without letting Ron process your speech, you pummeled the quaffle towards his post, and waited for him to realize. When he defended and kicked his leg out you made ample moves to catch the quaffle again. Progressively you threw the quaffle at each of the goal posts and occasionally at him to see whether or not he needed to be angry to have more balance or not. It seemed to be the case, so you called for a quick break. 

"You're only balanced well when you're distracted." You stated as he joined you closer to the middle of the pitch. "How do you suppose you do that when you're playing tomorrow. I won't be there to tease you from the stands." 

His face dropped when you mentioned your absence. "Guess I'll just think about the King Weasley chant."

"Do you even know how it goes?" 

"Yeah I've heard you spout it about a hundred times." He scowled. 

"Did you like my singing?" You asked innocently. 

He sighed deeply. "It wasn't the worst." 

You blushed. It was about the best compliment you were going to receive from the red-head. 

You both lowered yourselves so that you were on the wooden platform. Your bag sat undisturbed in the shelter, though your school tie and skirt peeked out. You quickly stuffed them back into the worn satchel, pretending to dig around for snacks. When you found an unopened bar at the bottom you fished it out. 

"Did you need a break from all that sitting, Y/N?" 

You rolled your eyes playfully. "No actually, I needed a snack. Want to go halves on it?" You questioned. The packaging was very muggle like, but still you offered. "It's just some muggle protein bar. My mum always sends me a bunch when I come back to Hogwarts."

"I thought Slytherins didn't associate with muggles." He quirked his eyebrows up, taking the half of the bar you offered. 

"I'm half-blooded. Not every Slytherin is as anti-muggle as Draco." 

"You're on first name basis with Malfoy?"

You shrugged. "Guess so. Why, does it make you jealous I'm on first name basis with someone else first?" 

Ron didn't answer you, only scoffing the remainder of the bar you'd given him and sitting back on his broom, only he positioned himself further back, toward the end of it. He stood for a while before you questioned him as to what he was doing. "Sit on the front. I was to see you up close teach me a soft grip, or whatever you were talking about before. I was a bit busy."

Your legs carried you to the front of the broom where he motioned for you to sit. "Are you sure this is safe?" You placed one hand in front of you, and looking back you saw Ron shrug. Before you could protest to getting off the flying contraption, Ron pushed off, launching you two into the air. With a jolt you placed your other hand just below your already positioned hand. "Ron!" You shrieked. 

"What? Just wanted to see the lesson up close is all. Press closer to me, you'll tip the broom."

Your eyes widened. "Did you do this so you could press yourself all up against my back?" 

"Not necessarily. But you will end up tipping the broom if you don't scooch closer." 

One glance down and all you saw was the green grass, and from experience you knew that it was not as soft as it looked. Falling from this height could mean death, but if you were falling, there was a higher chance Weasley was falling with you. You swallowed a lump in your throat but still moved backwards, inching your rear carefully to make sure you didn't tip the broom sideways. 

"Weasley, we're supposed to hate each other..." You trailed off as his arms came around your waist to grasp the broom in front of you. 

"I know. I still hate you. Nothing's changed, Y/L/N." Ron kept his hands steady but your own seemed to tremble. 

You were at a loss for words, unable to speak or even breathe. "For the soft grip you're gonna want to release your hands slowly, get a feel for the broom Ron." You began slowly, directing him. "You've gotta try and let go. Yes, like that." Your left hand grazed over his, helping his fingers slowly release and uncurl. "Just like that." You said, barely above a whisper. 

Ron stayed quiet, listening into your soft words. How had you gone from hating Ron Weasley to being pressed up against him, hundreds of feet in the air in the span of a week? Only Merlin would know at this point. "You're good at listening. Now slowly release your grip, you'll be okay." You brushed your fingers over the top of the palm, keeping an eye on the way he unfurled his right hand. "Yes, yes, good. Now this is the hardest part, slowly remove your hand and let it hover just above the broom." You commented, not realizing how much you had leaned into Ron's arms, his chest against your back fully. He slid his left hand further down the broom, closer to where your own hands were, without you even realizing it. 

"You're nice when you talk like this. All breathy and quiet for me." Ron whispered. 

"I'm teaching you, stop flirting with me. I don't think I can afford you getting upset at me right now." You flushed, thankful he wouldn't be able to see it. "Now you've gotta do the same with the other hand." Ron completed this process faster this time around. With that the broom lurched, causing Ron to clench his hand around the head of the broom to gain control, and the other hand landed itself around your waist. Something inside of you fluttered, even though it was likely just a subconscious reaction for Ron to grab onto _anything_. "So maybe we have work to do with that."

"Does that mean this isn't our last session?" He pondered, voice the quietest you'd heard in a while. 

"Maybe. But I want to change my conditions." 

"You don't want me to put in a word for you with George and Fred?" 

His hand didn't move around your waist, but your own had found it's way to the limb that still gripped the broom for dear life. "That's always gonna be there, Ron." You sighed, "But maybe I want to be more friendly with you, outside of this pitch." 

"I'd like that." He murmured. 

You smiled to yourself. "We should be heading back. I'm sure the other members of your trio are looking desperately for you, being that it's Friday night." 

"What if we stayed out here?" You felt his breath, hot on your exposed neck. 

You gulped. The sky was darkening as the sun dipped behind the horizon of the great lake. There were translucent clouds beginning to form over the pitch and you knew it'd be pitch black by the time you two stumbled toward the castle. "What did you have in mind, Weasley?" 

It wasn't like you had all the room in the world, you were hovering in the air situated on a broom. You couldn't even turn around to face Ron. "Bit of this, bit of that." The hand around your waist began tracing little circles on your shirt, just below your belly button. 

You hummed. "There's no room."

"I'll make it work." 

"You sound very sure of yourself all of a sudden." You mused.

His hands moved in tandem, bringing themselves closer together without you even realizing it. "Bit thrilling up here, isn't it, Y/N? Do these pants unzip?" 

Your eyes blew wide as you craned your neck to see his face, he looked pleased at your response. "They're elastic. Makes it easier to fly in." 

Ron pressed his nose up against your neck, partially covered by your hair and collar. You could feel when he inhaled and exhaled, the anticipation building. You turned your head again, looking down to where one of his hands tried to slip down your front, but when it finally did you gasped. His fingers toyed with you through you underwear at first, before shoving it aside the best he could and delving into the warm, wetness of your core. You moaned at the first contact, partially due to how cold his fingers were and how warm your body was under all your layers. 

He quickly increased the pace of his fingers, curling his index and middle finger without warning, causing you to involuntarily roll your hip. "Fuck, Ron,"

He mused, using his thumb the best he could to rub your clit in time with the curling motions of his fingers inside of you, but after a while of it too tight in your pants he shifted so that his palm was flat against you. Out of all the times you had looked at his hands and fingers during your sessions together you had never taken into account how thick his fingers were. Surely one finger would be enough to bring you close to orgasm, but two? You felt like your head was spinning. 

"Ron, _fuck,_ keep this up and I might fall off this broom." You struggled to laugh, whining and gasping as Ron kept up his relentless pace. 

"Can't have that now can we?" He flicked his fingers in a come hither motion and you let out a loud moan, gasping for air. 

"Please Ron, please, please plea-" You didn't get to finish chanting as the wave of arousal hit you, making your walls clench rapidly around Ron's fingers. He played with you for little time after that as you worked on keeping your breathing even after your orgasm. He kept one hand in your pants and steered the broom through the darkness with the other. 

Ron removed his hand from your pants when the broom was safely under the shield of wooden walls. He stiffly got up, groaning as he did so, motioning for you to get up too. "Can't walk after that, Ron, please just leave me here to nap." Your body was tired and your limbs limp. 

When you regained proper focus and reached down for your bag something caught your eye, Ron's own fingers were in his mouth, cheeks hollow as he sucked them. You stared back, agape. "What? You taste sweet, even if it's only on my fingers." You blinked, trying to regain composure. 

"Lets get you back to the castle, might even bully you on the way there." Ron teased, picking up his own bag. 

* * *

When you passed by the great hall that next morning you looked in, the Gryffindor table appeared to be buzzing, Ravenclaw was mostly empty so you assumed they'd already left for the pitch. You searched for the tuft of red hair you always liked to relentlessly tease and found it missing. Shrugging and turning on your heel to exit the large space between the courtyard and great hall, you felt yourself being pulled back. 

"Y/L/N!" Ron was red in the face, probably from running down a half a dozen flights of moving stairs and had half of his uniform on wrong. In his left hand was a yellow and red scarf, worn and aged. "You're coming right?" 

"I told you yesterday, I'm busy. I can't. I've gotten roped into teaching some poor second years."

His face fell. "Oh, right. I forgot." 

"I'll be at the ravenclaw party tonight though, presuming you make Gryffindor lose." You smirked. "I've still got that bet for one hundred galleons you get dropped from the team tonight." 

Ron's mouth twisted before he spat out, "Just when I thought I wasn't going to hate you anymore, you say this. Fuck you."

Your brows raised, taunting him on. When Potter and half the other Gryffindor team exited the Great Hall you made one last jest at him. "Keep the scarf though Weasley, it might help you remember where you're going to be for the rest of the season, in the stands!" You laughed loudly as Ron was torn away by Potter gripping his arm roughly. 

You in fact were going to the match, but you weren't planning on donning Gryffindors house colours, that'd be revolting. On the inside pocket of your coat you'd stuffed your slytherin scarf. It was all a mind game, partially to get Ron riled up and angry, hoping it would help him balance more. You hung around the castle a while longer, wanting to be far enough behind the rest of the student body so that Ron didn't suspect you were indeed coming. Pulling your Slytherin scarf taught around your neck you set off, burying your hands into the deep pockets of your coat. 

When you arrived at the pitch you forced yourself into the front row, close to one set of the hoops. There was a chilling wind that rocked the stadium but no rain seemed to fall. At least you wouldn't have to worry about your hair getting ruined. 

When the match began there was significantly less action and entertainment from both teams. The match prior had been ugly but this one seemed to be full of hesitant throws and slow fliers. Weasley had loosened his grip and so far had defended all of the scores, not letting a single one through. As he became more and more confident with his balance he began to throw his arms up whenever he defended the hoops, or a teammate would score from the opposite end. 

You were smiling secretly to yourself, filled with praise that he could finally get it. After a week of relentless teasing and probing and somehow still making time to teach him it had all come to fruition. Or at least you thought until Ron miss two shots in a row, getting sloppier with each one. You bit your lip, Gryffindor were still relatively in front of Ravenclaw, but if Potter didn't find the snitch first it'd be over for Gryffindor, again. 

When the crowd quietened down slightly you took your chance. "Come on King Weasley!" 

You'd only hope he would be able to hear through all the other noises around him and surely enough he blocked three more scores before Potter could finally grasp the golden snitch. You smiled to yourself as the student body began to file out of the stands, so maybe you'd lost yourself one hundred galleons, but that didn't matter. There was a change of plans for that night, no longer would you sulk around a bunch of snotty Ravenclaws, but rather get death stares from the winning Gryffindors. 

You snuck around to the player tents and waited, watching Gryffindors exit the one across from you. All of the Ravenclaws left at the same time, defeated and tired. You weren't exactly hiding yourself, and there was maybe a maximum of three more Gryffindors left in the tent. You waited, knowing either Harry or Ron would exit, but when Harry left with who you presumed to be a fourth year leaving the chances of Ron being alone almost at 100%. 

"Weasley! I think I owe you a hundred galleons!" You shouted, entering the tent. 

Still in his kit, Ron sat on one of the benches hands deep in a red body bag next to him. He looked up, not expecting to see you, as made apparent by the look of sheer surprise on his face. "I thought you said you were tutoring some kid."

"I lied." You smiled innocently. "Your form improved, I could tell from the stands. Still not good enough though." 

He rolled his eyes. "Shove off. You probably didn't even come." 

You eyed him. "Not what you said last night. Didn't you hear me screaming King Weasley?" 

Ron bit his tongue. "Yeah, made me pissed." 

"That was the point." You sat down on the bench next to him. 

Ron rolled his eyes, shoving the bag on the floor. "Thought you said last night you wanted to be nicer to me,"

"You were five seconds away from fingering me on a broom, Ron! What else did you want me to say?"

"So you lied?" He roared, standing up. You didn't answer. He huffed and pulled his robe off. letting it crumple in a pile on the floor. 

"So what if I did Ron? Why do you care?" You finally retorted. 

"Bloody hell, I admitted to liking you yesterday!"

"You git! I thought you were lying!" Shrugging off your own coat now you threw it onto the bench as you stood up. "Merlin, I should've hit you with that bloody bludger."

You turned on your heel to follow him, but you were met with a harsh shove. Your back was pressed against a stack of lockers, Ron's hand twisted in your shirt, and his head was inches away from yours. "You gonna say it again, Y/L/N?" The quietness in his voice, which was barely above a whisper made you shiver, but you weren't going to bend and apologize that quickly. 

You whispered back. "Bite me, King Weasley." 

He scowled, grinding his teeth before he pushed off of you. He shook his head before leaving the dry part of the tent, and you wondered what he was doing until you heard the squeak of old pipes and the gush of water hitting a tiled floor. You barged in through the tent flap. "Ron Weasley, you do not get to walk away from me like that!" Weasley had managed to get his shirt and upper protective gear off and struggled with his pants and shoes. Your eyes flickered. "Need help with that?" 

"Only if I get to change my conditions." He repeated the words you'd said the night prior. 

"Go on, Weasley." 

"You get on your knees and shut up for once in your life." He finally got his left shoe off.

"Sounds like a short term thing, Weasley." You pouted, kneeling in front of him. Your hands grasped at the each side of his hips, making eye contact with him as you shimmied his pants down. You smirked, seeing a small tent forming in his red boxers. You pulled those down too, just letting them pool at his ankles for now. Ron leant back onto the bench, behind your back was a row of open showers, split by chest-height dividers. Further along that wall was two enclosed toilets and a few other closer showers. The bench stretched the entire length of the room, now only filled with the shower spray hitting the floor and Ron's heavy breathing. 

"It doesn't have to be, Y/N." He exhaled, cock stirring in front of you. "You gonna just stare?"

"Well the condition you proposed only had me get on my knees an-" Ron's hand gripped the back of your head, angling you up. 

"I also asked for you to shut your mouth." He drawled. 

Your rolled your eyes, taking your hand to take his half-hard erection. You spat into your hand and gave him a quick few pumps, maintaining eye contact. Once you deemed him hard enough, you sat up slightly, edging closer to take the head of his cock into your mouth. You swirled your tongue around him before you sank further down his length. He cried out, a hand tightening in your hair. 

When you couldn't fit the last inch or so into your mouth and throat you used your other hand to pump him. Releasing back suddenly, you pumped his cock with two hands, saliva covering it. When you opened your mouth to speak, Ron took that as a sign, guiding your head back onto his cock with the hand in your hair. You closed your eyes and braced yourself, as Ron used your mouth. You swallowed and hollowed your cheeks out accordingly and occasionally moaned or whined, the vibrations causing Ron to let out similar noises. 

You were thankful that the shower a few feet behind you blocked out the sound of your mouth being used. You choked when Ron pushed your head back too far, alarmed you pulled back, overpowering the grasp Ron had on the base of your skull. Once you were off him completely you coughed, and slapped his knee. "Fuck was that for?" You wined, keeping your hands steady and moving as you recovered. 

"Wanted to see how far down you could take me." His voice was low. 

"Ask next time you git." You spat out, returning your mouth to his tip, swirling around the pink head. Your breathing returned to a normal rate, which meant you were able to swallow at least half of his length. Above you, he was quickly deteriorating, short whines and gasps leaving his throat. He couldn't keep his hips still, occasionally bucking up to meet your movements. You hollowed out your cheeks, looking up to him. 

"'M gonna cum, Y/N, shit." He whined bucking up again. You kept one hand permanently on his thigh, trying to keep him from bucking up too much. You were about to slide your head off him and coax him to an orgasm by just using your hands, but he bet you to the punch, and without warning he released in your mouth, you pulled back so that only his head was in your mouth. You swallowed what was already in your mouth, coaxing the last few drops out of him as he sat hunched over you. 

Whilst he caught his breath, you got to your feet, shedding your shirt and flinging it to the bench beside you. "Still got enough for round two?" You questioned, sliding down your jeans. He looked up, and took in your body. Unhooking your bra, you stepped closer to one of the open showers, testing the water. "It's still warm, King Weasley, care to join me?" You turned your back and slid the last remaining piece of clothing from your body, stepping under the spray. 

You leant back, wetting your hair. You looked at him, sighing, pretending to shower you ran your hands over your body, before turning around to let the spray hit your face. When you eventually felt his presence up against your back, you sighed happily. "I was wondering when you might join me King Weasley." His hands were on your hips, and they made you turn to face him. 

"Don't call me that." 

"What're you gonna do?" You taunted, getting up to your tippy-toes, raising your eyebrows and flickering your eyes between his lips and pupils, blown wide by lust. You caught him doing the same. He inited the kiss, surging forward and accidentally bumping your head with his own. The kiss was rough, hot and heavy, as your teeth would occasionally clank together in an attempt to get closer to Ron. You cursed, grinding your hips against his and feeling his cock harden against your stomach. 

"You're so fucking annoying, I hate you." He grunted, grabbing a fistful of hair, "Ya' always think you're gonna get away with everything, not today, no today, Y/L/N." 

You bit your tongue as Ron maneuvered you to his liking, face pressed up against the cold tile and ass still under the spray of the water. Looking back you quipped, "Didn't realize you were such an ass man."

With that Ron felt the need to grope the flesh of your rear, "When it's you, I think I prefer both." You rolled your eyes, turning around on your own violation. With your back up against the wall, you cocked you head, exposing your neck. "See, that's the spirit." Running one of his hands down your chest he maintained eye contact as he slipped his index finger down your folds and slowly entering you. 

You gasped and clung onto his shoulder as he moved closer to you. "Fuck, Y/N, you're dripping." You laughed sheepishly. "Tell us who got you this wet."

"The shower." You managed to ground out, moaning when he added another finger. 

"Wrong answer. Tell me his name." 

"King Weasley!" You all but screamed, whining when Ron removed his fingers entirely. Your shot your glance down to see what he was planning to do, and felt his 'plan' before you could register it. You felt like you were being split in two, right down the middle as Ron slowly guided his cock into you. His forehead leaned on yours as he kept moving slowly. This had to be a registered form of torture, you were sure of it. 

You were a panting mess even before Ron had given his first thrust. "So fuckin' tight." He groaned once he was fully sheathed inside you. He pulled at the underside of your legs, "Jump."

You happily obliged, twisting your legs around his waist, curling your arms around his neck. He snapped his hips back and forth, lips attacking your neck. "Come on King Weasley, I know you can go harder than that." 

He started thrusting shallowly, but faster, "Call me that again and I'll make sure you can't walk back to the castle, 'ya hear me?" You nodded. 

The sound of skin slapping began to quickly override the sound of water hitting the floor, in addition to both your moans and whines and the occasional groan from Ron. Your hands explored the expanse of his back, nails digging into pale skin. Slowing his shallow-fast pace the swirling ocean of arousal faltered, but soon was replaced by a washing tide as Ron bottomed out. "Who made you this wet, Y/N? Tell me and I'll let you come." You could tell he was close, and you felt your own orgasm building. Knowing that you wouldn't be able to stand a ruined orgasm you caved, chanting Ron's name. "There's a good girl, that's right, I made you this wet." He hummed into your skin, sucking and biting your neck, knowing he would leave a mark. 

"Fuck, Ron, don't stop talking!" You whined, head bobbing as Ron rocked into you, your back sliding up and down the wall as he thrusted. 

"'Ya like listening to me talk while I'm buried inside of you? Yeah? Naughty little thing you are." Ron took your lips in his again, kissing you roughly. "Bloody hell, Y/N, so tight for me, it's gonna be all I think about for a week," He huffed snapping his hips deeper and faster. One hand that he previously had pressed on the wall next to your head dropped to where you two met, skin with skin. He used his thumb to roughly rub circles into your clit. Maybe for once in your life you couldn't form words, or a witty reply. You clenched unintentionally around him, causing him to groan.

" _Where else would he be Hermione? No one else saw him even leave the tent."_

_"I don't know Harry, he could've just been in the prefect bathrooms."_

You looked to Ron, who still had a hand on your clit and was snapping his hips violently inside of you and fear flashed between the both of you. Ron didn't stop his hips in time for you two to untangle yourselves for when Harry poked his head through the door. Though you were sure Ron was more than enough of a cover for you, your right hand flew up to cover yourself as The Boy Who Lived stared in shock at the scene before him. Hermione, cautious of no other words coming from Harry yelped when she too poked her head around. "Sorry Ron!" She cried, averting her eyes as she dragged Harry by the arm out of the tent. Your eyes flickered to Rons who didn't seem phased, typical boy, you thought. 

You groaned when he thrusted up again, bringing you back to reality. " _At least we found him."_ There was a quick beat as Ron circled your clit again, causing you to cry out. " _You'd think they'd wait a moment before starting up again."_ Their voices faded as Ron kept up his pace. 

"I could feel you around me that whole time, twitching, you like getting caught don't you?" Ron questioned, using the last bit of his energy to make sure you came before him, knowing that he wasn't too far off himself. "Like me shagging you where other people can see, hmm?" You cried out, chanting his name. "Yeah, good girl, cum around my cock." He kissed you fully, swallowing your moans and whines. 

And cum around his cock you did, coaxing his second orgasm out of him. Your eyes were hooded as you unhooked your legs from his waist, still holding onto his shoulders for guidance. Your legs felt like jelly as you stood under the spray, little aftershocks hitting you in various places, specifically around your groin. Ron looked easily just as tired as you, holding you as you relaxed in the spray. 

"I lied, Ronnie," your voice was hoarse as two large arms wrapped around you, he hummed, "Said I didn't want to be friends, but I do, just wanted to see you angry."

"I know. You wouldn't've stuck around if you didn't. It's okay." He led you to the bench where your clothes sat undisturbed by the water, whereas Ron's appeared to be soaked. You sat down, pulling your clothing on one by one. "Give me a second, I've got something for you." He walked off into the other area of the players tent, and brung his bag into the room, dumping it down onto the bench. You sighed and smiled when he held out the worn scarf he offered you earlier. You took it, finished getting dressed and donned it around your neck. 

"Does it look good? I think I might wear it to that rager Gryffindor is having tonight." You smirked, watching Ron get dressed. 

He bit his lip. "Yeah, and how do you think you're getting into said party?" 

"I didn't shag you for no reason Weasley." You laughed, standing when he was finished, not yet joining hands but rather letting him slip his hand around your shoulders.

**Author's Note:**

> not more ron weasley smut 


End file.
